Page 28 of A Son Hidden from the Sicilian

His parents were dead. His sister too. Lorenzo had taken care of the rest of them, clearly, all while building his own empire. She had no doubt he’d accomplished said empirebecauseof everything he’d had to take care of.

She wasn’t sure how he’d accomplished it all. It was awe-inspiring.

She supposed his siblings might have another view of him, but if his brother visited with his children often enough for Lorenzo to have outfitted his house for them, surely they were close.

And it would mean Gio had cousins. Aunts and uncles. A much larger family than the one he’d known. The kind of thing Brianna herself had always dreamed of but not been able to create for Gio herself.

She knew she should want to go back to her life in New Jersey once it was safe. Find normalcy once again. But she just...didn’t. She wanted to stay here. With Lorenzo. With a whole big world and family to give to her son. She wanted Lorenzo holding Gio to become so normal it didn’t make her want to sob alone in her room.

She wanted all of that for Gio, but she worried if that was because she also wanted it—and Lorenzo—for herself. She pondered that. Was this really selfish? Did she care more about her own wants and desires and what had happened in Lorenzo’s office than what was best for her son? Was she just convincing herself it was all for Gio?

She sat with that worry for a moment, but she couldn’t latch on to it. Gio deserved a good father and Lorenzo fit the bill. If Lorenzo’s siblings were half as good with children as Lorenzo himself, that was more love and care for Gio than she had even imagined for him.

Maybe she yearned for those things too, but it wasn’t at the expense of her son. So there was that. But there was also the lure of Lorenzo.

A headache threatened, so she focused on getting ready rather than the man causing it. She got dressed. Did her own hair and makeup though Lorenzo’s staff had offered to bring someone in to help her. But she had come to Palermo originally prepared to handle these things on her own. It was pointless to change course now. She knew how to make herself look presentable. The colorful American artist—quite the oddity in these circles of sleek, sophisticated Europeans. And yet, she kind of liked it. Feeling different. Feeling special. She didn’t mind the attention or the looks—maybe because she believed in her art. Believed in herself.

Sheknewwhat she created was good, interesting. The mix of paint and embroidery methods and the juxtaposition of whimsy and darkness, like all the fairy tales she’d grown up loving.

And even if no one else agreed with her, she created what she liked. What moved her. If it wasn’t enough to support Gio, she’d simply go get a job.

Except you have his billionaire father involved now.

So there was that.

It was funny. She didn’t feel like an oddity here in Lorenzo’s gigantic, opulent house. She didn’t have the same discomfort her parents did at the overt displays of wealth. It just felt...right. Like it reflected the man and his personality—and both those things were meant for her.

Ugh.They were very clearly notmeantfor each other, even if she could convince Lorenzo of the possibility ofmeant for. So...how did this go? After her art show, when she didn’t have to be in Palermo anymore? Once Lorenzo dealt with the paparazzi and his rival and it was safe for her and Gio to return to America?

What happened once this was over? How did she move forward with Lorenzo as Gio’sinvolvedfather? How did she move forward with her parents, who had stepped in and been everything she’d needed since they’d learned of Gio’s existence?

What happened when Lorenzo broughtdatesto art shows or family Christmases and she was just supposed to accept it and think it wasgreat?

She tried not to scowl as she fixed the rollers in her hair. The man wanted to bring adate. When clearlysomethingstill flashed between the two of them—even if it couldn’t go anywhere.

No. That wasn’t accurate. He wouldn’tletit go anywhere. Because he viewed love as a fairy tale, and that fairy tales were bad.

Could that really be the whole story? Why did he care what she felt if he didn’t believe in love? Why couldn’t she love him and he just take it? Not that she’d told him or asked him for anything... No, she couldn’t do that.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Dress on, makeup done. The only thing she was waiting on was her hair.

She knew he found her attractive. He certainly hadn’t planned office floor seductions even if he wasn’t opposed to them. He’d likely come to that initial art show to see if the spark still flamed between them.

But he had walked away once.Somethinghad sent him away fromall that very good and very available sex. Abruptly. In the middle of the night.

She sighed heavily. At some point, she had to stop having these circular thoughts. She had to stop being desperate and hoping for something to change. Lorenzo might find her attractive, might not be opposed to sex, but he didn’t want a relationship. And she had to put Gio before her own wants, her own weaknesses.

Or you could be honest with Lorenzo.

The idea filled her with such dread and fear, and the certainty it would ruineverything, that she immediately shoved it away.

The next step after tonight was clear. She and Lorenzo would sit down and hammer out a parental agreement. Maybe she would find a way to stay in Palermo so such agreements didn’t involve international travel. Maybe her parents would even be amenable to moving here. They’d always wanted to travel Europe and had never had the chance.

She and Lorenzo would work it out, figure it out. Asparents.Notformer lovers...no matter how recently they’d been grappling about on his office floor.

She unrolled the curlers and finished her hair, determined that she was a strong, capable woman who would do what was best for her son. Ill-advisedalmostsex in offices notwithstanding.

A knock sounded at her door before she could go through another cycle of self-recrimination. Before she could offer a “come in” the door opened and Lorenzo stepped inside.

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